


Mixed Up, Shook Up

by orphan_account



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:32:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Looking in all the wrong places...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixed Up, Shook Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my usual pairing, but I hope you give it a go. It's a fun read.

MIXED UP, SHOOK UP

  
(The Darris Files)

  
You'd have thought a man in a frock would be good for something; something that would get the punters in and his dad off his back!

Maybe it was because Kris somehow still looked just a bit too blokey. Maybe if he could persuade him to go the whole hog...

Kris watched him approach, the light of suspicion already in his eye.

“What?” he couldn't help  saying as he squeezed behind him.

“I've seen that look before.  Either I'm for the push or you want me to work a dozen extra shifts – without pay.”

Daren found himself examining Kris in a way he was usually careful to avoid.  Girly on top, but a bit too blokey on the bottom.  He really should have paired the top and jeans with those high-heeled fuckers he sometimes wore.  How he managed to walk around in them without breaking his fucking neck he had no clue.  He had a weakness for heels – higher the better – loved what it did to a woman's arse when she walked.  He didn't particularly care to imagine what it did to Kris' arse when he walked but maybe some of the punters might?

“Er...”

Kris stared at him. He had this way of looking at you that made you feel like a bug under a microscope, like he could see your insides and was amused by the calibre of them.  “Just spit it out, boss.”

“Don't call me that.  How many times?”

“But I thought you'd like that – boss.  Mercedes tells me that you're all about being in charge, that you really get off on it.”

He frowned. For all that the words seemed innocent he detected some undercurrent there.  And uh, they talked about him?  “I don't 'get off' on it.  I just like to put my management skills into practice.”

“Oh you do, do you?  When?”

“What?”

“When are you going to put your management skills into practice?”

“Oh very funny!  For your information I use the softly softly approach – let the staff feel that they're part of the decision making process.”

“Oh yeah?  And how do you achieve that exactly?” He was leaning on the bar, arms folded, blue eyes big and seemingly sincere.

Darren knew him well enough by now to know he was far from sincere. “Look we haven't got time for this now.  Punters need serving.”  They both looked at the empty pub.  “Punters will need serving at any moment.”

“Okay, but while we're waiting for these fabled punters you can tell me all about your managements techniques.”

“Why, you thinking of applying for the position?”

Kris snorted.  “Do me a favour!  If I wanted to manage a failing business I think I'd at least find somewhere warm to do it.”

“It is not a failing business.  We're just going through the usual seasonal ups and downs.”

“Okay, Darren, you tell me when we reach the ups and then I'll mebbe think you're not talking out your arse.”

“Well you know it would help the business if the staff made some kind of contribution!”

“What?”  He was laughing.

“Well you seem to think you're so clever why don't you do something to get the punters in?”

“Darren, I made my contribution.  How much did we take when we staged the pound a kiss night?”

“That doesn't count!”

Laughing again.  He'd noticed that this man seemed to find him very amusing.  Couldn't think why.  “And why's that?”

“It just doesn't, alright?”  Once again he was starting to feel uncomfortable.  He didn't really know how or when it had started but being around Kris had started to make him feel really tense.  It couldn't be the cross dressing thing – he'd got pretty used to that and had never been able to get a rise out of him so had abandoned the piss taking some time back. Besides Kris was the only person he could think of who actually scared him with the sharpness of his tongue.  He hadn't quite been lacerated yet, but he wasn't stupid enough to think he wouldn't be if he stepped out of line – either side of the line.  What fucking line, though?  The thing is Kris was a funny one, well obviously – any bloke who wore women's knickers deserved a little bit more than that mild adjective.   Did he wear knickers?  Okay he'd speculated about that a few times already, but the thought... sickened him...  No the thing about Kris was that he was both very easy going and a bit of a mardy bastard. Maybe those were the days when he was on the rag or the tranny equivalence.  Did trannies have certain hormones in common with both men and women?  Like he clearly needed to use a razor – on his face.  Fuck did he use one on the rest of his body too? His mind tried to go there, but he pulled it sharply back just in time to catch the tail end of a smug look from his companion.  “What?”

“You are gagging for it!”

“What?”  He was outraged.  Where had that come from? All he was doing was wiping glasses.  “I am not gagging  for it!”

“Darren, you were just now eyeing me up like I was a premium piece of sirloin steak.  I think we can safely say you are gagging for it!”

“Was not, was just wondering if you shaved or not-” Shit had he really fucking just said that?  Turning to the shelves behind him he bent down, began to rearrange the neat row of glasses.

He felt Kris come up behind him.  No he definitely didn't like those boots.  “Darren you need to get yourself laid like yesterday or you're gonna do yourself an injury.”

“Piss off.”

Kris was silent for a time, but didn't move away.  He was wearing black jeans – very tight but he had that long stupid girly blouse covering his crotch so Darren had no way of telling if he had what he should have or if it was only like  half a cock or small like a boy's.  “Well unless you've got X ray eyes you're gonna have to have a proper look.”

He swallowed hard, fell to one side – in 'shock'.  “Wha-?”

Kris had his arms folded, hips canted to one side.  His hair had fallen over his eyes.  He wore more bloody eye make-up than some of his exes.  “Darren you are obviously dying of curiosity here.  So why don't I put you out of your misery?”

“Wha-?  What you on about?”  He really shouldn't be on his knees in front of him like this.  Hold on; when had he got on his knees?  “Look will you serve the bloody punters?  Bad enough we hardly attract any flippin' custom without turning away the ones we've got.”  Kris stared at him for a long minute then gave a leisurely glance around the empty pub.  “Well we can have a customer at any moment.”

“Okay, you're right, but in the meantime what shall we do to pass the time?”

“I don't know, tidy up?”

“Darren, I have tidied up 4 times since I starred my shift. I even considered doing the bogs, but since we haven't anyone using the bogs...”

“Okay, okay, no need to go on.”  He struggled to his feet, fell against Kris who clasped his hand.  Fuck! He had a grip on him!  “Bloody hell!  I see you don't use Camay on these ham hocks then!”  He'd turned the grip so that Kris' left hand was in his, made a show of examining it.

“No I swear by Lux!”

He wore some sort of girly scent – well maybe it wasn't but it was sweeter than he'd expect from a bloke – a normal bloke.  Well, obviously.  “You need to change to Camay – the stuff you're using isn't working.”  Actually he had very well kept hands – nails buffed and painted he thought, but with some of that transparent muck they called 'natural' or something.

“Are you some sort of expert?  You sound like you know a lot about grooming.”

He bristled.  “Well why wouldn't I?  I take great pride in my personal appearance.”

“Well I'm sure you do, Darren.  It's just a tragedy that your tastes in clothes are so dire.”

Now he was really offended.  “Says the bloke wearing his mum's blouse!”

He took a certain amount of satisfaction from the knowledge that he'd put a sizeable dent in the familiar insouciance.  Kris' eyes flashed just like a girl's who'd just been told – by her boyfriend – that yeah her bum did indeed look big in that and not just big but maybe even gigantic, like  a giant peach or something... The arms unfolded – as did the ankles – he'd been at great pains to show just how very relaxed he was – and the hands came to rest on the hips.  Yeah just like a girl.  “What's so funny?”

“What?”  Oh not so funny now the boot was on the other foot.  Stop thinking about boots!  “Just, the blouse, not exactly the height of sartorial elegance.”

“The jacket and shirt – clown wear.”

Oh so the gloves were coming off?  Okay he could do this.  “And any self respecting girl knows not to pair a blouse with motor cycle boots!”  Well that seemed to have silenced him.  No real answer to that one.  He was staring at him though – intently – more intently than usual. “What?”

“I'm not a girl.”

He blinked.  Uh?  “Well of course I know you're not a girl.  What you on about?”

“That's it isn't it?  I mean really it – you think that somewhere underneath it all I'm hiding a vagina.”

Darren felt himself blush and his cock twitch.  “Don't be bloody stupid.  You're a bloke – I know that.  Course you are.  Don't be daft – I'm not that far gone.”

“Aren't you?  Darren do you want me to prove it to you?”

“Prove what for god's sake?”  Why was he still allowing this conversation to continue?  “Look we may as well lock up for-”

“What are you so afraid of?”  He didn't like the serious tone Kris had adopted.  Now that scared him.

“A tranny cornering me in my own pub.  Now let's get all this mess cleared away.”  To his surprise Kris said nothing just gave a nod and started doing exactly that.

They worked in silence – efficiency itself, teamwork in full effect – until Darren was satisfied that they'd done all they could to restore the pub to its former order.

“Right.”  He gave the counter a final wipe.  “You can go.”

Kris didn't move.  He was leaning against the fruit machine, arms folded again.  He seemed to have something on his mind.  “Darren.”

“What?  Come on I haven't got all night.  You usually can't wait to get out of here.”

“Are you happy?”

What?  Where the fuck had that come from?  And what fucking business was it of his?  “Look I'm going to lock up – I have the place to myself tonight and I intend to make the most of it.”

“Call up a few old girlfriends?”

“Something like that.  Everyone likes free drinks don't they?”  God he was really losing it.  Why had he said that?  “And my bed, well, chariot of lurve... Who can resist?”

“Well 99.9999% of the female population of Hollyoaks and surrounding environs from what I gather.”

“Goodnight.”  He fetched the big bunch of keys, walked significantly to the door, didn't quite hold it open, but would the next minute if the bastard didn't- “Oi! Out!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you might be looking in all the wrong places?”

“What, I should try the Cheshire hunting set, a footballer’s wife?”

“Not exactly.”  He still hadn't moved a muscle, clearly had no indention of leaving.  Well he could chuck him out – he had a few pounds and a few inches on him - but had a little too much dignity for that.

He locked the door, no point in letting anyone in now – even though licensing hours were still in operation.  Still, a locked door meant no entry no matter what the sign on the door said.  “Look I've had a long hard day and all I want is to go to my place, have a nice meal, a long drink and watch telly - without anyone in my face.  You're scuppering those plans.”

“No, I'll leave in a minute, just want to have a word.”

“About what for god's sake?  My lovelife?”

“Seems like as good a place as any to start.” 

He put the keys back on the hook, leaned against the bar, trying to match the other man's relaxed pose.  “Oh I get it – this is for the radio show.  You get me spilling my soul to you and you regurgitate it for the hungry crowd the next day right?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“Well isn't that what you do?  Find 'human tragedy' and exploit it?  Isn't that the whole basis of your programme?”

“Look Darren I'm not going to argue ethics with you-”

“Because I'm too thick to follow right?  Well you know what-?”

“I don't think of you that way.  God, man, isn't it obvious?” His accent sounded harsh, sharp. 

Darren looked at him, confused. “What?”

“Darren, I want you, fancy you, think you're one fine hunk of fun and want to get into your pants. Is that clear enough?”

Darren continued to stare at him, then felt the rare heat of anger somewhere deep in his belly.  “Okay you've had your fun, now get out!  Go on.  Out!”

Kris didn't move, but he did look perturbed.  “Darren.”

“No I'm tired of it, tired of your jibes, your little digs. I'm fucking tired, and tired of that in particular.”

“Look I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say anything and that was awkward as fuck...” He began to walk toward him, moving as one would do if approaching an injured animal liable to turn vicious through pain and fear.  “I can't take it back because I did mean it, but I wish I could take back telling you that way – that was stupid.”

Darren watched him approach, still angry, but now with added confusion  – an uncomfortable mix.  What was he trying to say?  “What are you on about?”

Kris stopped a safe distance from him.  He was as serious as Darren had ever seen him.  “I like you.”

He frowned, still confused.  If he could have put a bet on anything it would be that Kris didn't like him – in any way, shape, or form.  What the hell was going on?  He didn't reply, couldn't honestly think of anything to say.

“Darren I'm not propositioning you or anything, just wanted to let you know that I see what all those 99.9999% of women don't see and I like it.”

Darren still stared, still not trusting what he was hearing, still not quite able to make sense of what he was hearing.  Hold on, he said he wasn't propositioning him, but hadn't he said he wanted him, fancied him, wanted to get him into the sack?  He'd said that hadn't he?  So he was propositioning him.  Cheeky fucker!  He wasn't a bloody queer!  “Well that's very nice, but thanks but no thanks. I'd rather find that 0.00001% if that's okay with you.”

Kris shrugged as though this was no big deal.  “I don't blame you.  It must be terrifying going somewhere you've never been before.  Chuck us the keys.  I'll let myself out.” 

Darren did as he was told, working on automatic, mind still wrestling with Kris' words.  Was he calling him a pussy?  Accusing him of being chicken? “And it's not a matter of being scared – it's a matter of not wanting to, okay?”  He didn't give him the keys, held them possessively to his chest.  “I know what I like and even if it means having to wait for it I'd rather do that than-” Than what? Fuck another bloke?  Yeah that's what he meant. “Not interested, sorry.”

“Okay, no worries.  Chuck us the keys.”  He caught them, walked over to the door, opened it and let himself out, throwing Darren the keys before closing it once more.

Darren stared at the keys in his hand wondering what the hell had just happened.

**

  
Well he'd expected it to be awkward.  Coming into work the following evening had not been something he could honestly say had been high on his to do list.  Had to, of course, but it had been a long time since he'd felt so awkward around another person.

When Darren had said no he had accepted it, had even told himself that he couldn't really have been expecting anything else – he'd blurted it out in the worst way possible, in a less than ideal situation – course it was going to be impossible for Darren to react any other way.

 But the truth had been far different: he hadn't been able to let it go – this feeling that he had royally messed up through lack of finesse.  And of course the real kicker was that it mattered to him, really mattered.  Darren was the first man he could ever remember being completely fascinated by.  Didn't know what it was about him, but over the last few months as he'd begun to spend time with him he found his feelings changing.

 He'd always found Darren a bit of a joke – a bad one – almost like he was auditioning for a role in some far out comedy.  No, not far out – that would have been acceptable – just mundane, cheesy and terribly unfunny.  Like everyone else he'd dismissed him; almost didn't see him as a real person with real feelings.  But he'd seen the way he'd look at his father - when he thought himself unobserved – and found himself thinking: so that's how you look at someone you love and you really, really love him, don't you? This insight had come as something of a surprise, even more of a surprise the realisation to just what lengths he'd go to hide this from both his dad - and everyone else. 

Everything was all on the surface with Darren – at least that's how he wanted to make it appear.

And Kris, because he liked to watch, had started doing just that.

 People fascinated him. Darren fascinated him as much for the fact that he shouldn't be fascinating as for the fact that he actually was.

He didn't really know when fascination had turned into something else and then become more, so much more.  And he'd never really expected it to go anywhere, but he'd noticed Darren looking at him in a way that denoted a certain fascination of his own and had started...well not making plans exactly, but hoping, yeah hoping.

And he'd blown it to hell. 

The one shot he'd had of gently leading him to a place that would undoubtedly terrify him should he give himself any room or time to think about it, had been been let off prematurely, inappropriately and now they were back at square one – minus square one.  He'd pretty much brought this tentative thing between them fully into the harsh glare of daylight and succeeded only in terrifying the bejayzus out of him.  If there was one thing he knew about straight guys it was the way they were so very protective of their heterosexual credentials.  Apparently you'd be drummed out of the Straight Boys' Club if you even glanced – even for a fraction of a second – at another bloke in a way that denoted any kind of sexual curiosity.  You could, apparently, grab arse, even a cluster of willies so long as everyone understood you were straight as a die.  He'd learned a lot about the Straight Boys' club and its 'rules' from Malachi.  The cross-dressing was partly rebellion against the absurdity of these rules, but mostly simply because he felt comfortable that way – looking that way, dressing that way.  He may not have been 'straight' but he was still a bloke and didn't feel the need to prove it the way most straight guys seemed to.

Darren had been a weird contradiction to Kris' mind: dressed like a metrosexual, very straight acting and seeming, but definitely bi curious.  Oh he had no doubt whatever that Darren wouldn't say no.  The point, however, was to get him in the right place, the right frame of mind where 'yes' would feel good; make him feel good about himself and not suffer that crippling shame and sense of a loss of identity that he knew would prove an almost insurmountable barrier.  John Paul McQueen could attest to that one.  His lover had said 'yes' but clearly hadn't got to the place where yes was no big deal, just a natural next step in the love affair – the way it was with people whose sexual identity was not such a momentous affair.

But he'd been too impatient, too clever with his mouth as always.  Darren was there for the plucking and he hadn't been able to keep his hands off.  He could bloody kick himself.  He wanted him bad, but had been looking to play the long game, reel him in slowly, carefully; letting him get comfortable with wanting it, wanting to go there.  And now look, Darren wasn't even in the pub – Jack said he'd gone to see friends in Manchester and wouldn't be back until late that night.   Since Darren rarely left the pub these days Kris could only assume that this was his way of trying to avoid him, possibly even give him a message he'd have a hard time misunderstanding.

He wanted to not mind, but not only did he mind very much he also found Darren impossible to relegate to the 'one that got away' category.  He should, he knew he should, but the fact was Darren was the first person with whom he honestly felt the tentative stirrings of something other than curiosity and challenge.  There was something inside that was drawn, very strongly drawn to Darren. He fascinated him yes, but there was a tenderness there too and since this was something he honestly rarely felt he knew – never one to lie to himself – that he might be falling in love with him.

  
And that fact alone ensured that he couldn't, just couldn't let this go...

  
**

  
He hadn't lied when he'd said he was going to Manchester.  He had lied about the friends part though.

He'd lain awake most of the night, thinking about what Kris had said, and done.  He still didn't know what to make of it.  Was he really serious?  It was hard to tell with him.  He was the sort who could lead you right up to the brink, until you were teetering on the edge, too close to stop yourself falling - all without giving any sign that he was leading you on.

Darren knew he was smart, streetwise, but was also aware that for people like Kris he was an easy mark.  He didn't have the first clue how to get one over on Kris and this made him feel completely at sea around him.

But that hadn't been the issue he'd found himself wrestling with that night. 

Why?  Why had he done it?  Why had he decided to put the moves on him?  Okay, he wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't being set up but something about the way Kris had looked at him, the almost – well all he could compare it to was the way a cobra got that puffed up neck when it was about to strike.  Kris hadn't; unusually for him he'd been sort of ...subdued...like, like he was serious, he supposed. Yeah he'd confused Darren because for once in his life he'd seemed to be deadly serious.  But why, why him?  Kris was into guys, but he didn't seem the type who'd hit on a straight guy – he wouldn't waste his energy – so why had he?  This had set his mind in turmoil.  Was he giving off the wrong signals?  Was the fact that he was indeed gagging for it a scent guys like Kris could detect?

He wasn't sure when the idea had taken effect, when it had become an actually decision rather than just an okay then, I'll show him!

He'd known where to look but wasn't exactly sure what to do and he was absolutely convinced that his intentions must have been written in red marker all over his face: I'm gonna have sex with a pro! Yet when he'd told his dad that he was going out with friends for the night he'd been fine, hadn't twigged at all.  Well of course he hadn't.  Even if he'd been behaving suspiciously, which good sense told him he hadn't been, particularly, there was no way to divine that he was intending to have sex with the first personable pro that approached him.  No way at all.

Of course he'd need a car and luckily for him his dad had been in a giving mood and with the standard lecture and obligatory whinge about him not having the wherewithal to acquire a motor of his own - “What do I pay you with, son? Monkey nuts? - he'd got the keys.  He was aware of a weight he hadn't realised until that very moment had been on his shoulders falling away the second he got the keys in his sweaty little hands.

He was quite familiar with Manchester, but he realised not to his shame exactly, but to his chagrin certainly, that he wasn't altogether familiar with its fleshpots.

He couldn't exactly go to the local library and look up: Local Red Light Areas. Nor could he stop a passerby and say: “Excuse me mate, know where I can find a good prossie?”  Well actually, now he really stopped to think about it, he probably could, but it was a very hit and miss affair, one that had pretty dire consequences if you were foolish enough to actually put it into practice. 

But okay so it wouldn't be as straightforward as he would have liked, but he wasn't an idiot – or a chicken – he could work it all out given enough time.

Well as it turned out time hadn't been the issue.  He just hadn't been able to go through with it.

Oh he'd had absolutely no difficulty finding a red light area; cruised it for a while, clocking all the faces – and bods – on the first few passes then narrowing them down to a couple likely candidates.

They clocked him too, of course, probably having a laugh at the punter who couldn't make up his mind whether he was going to take the plunge – cheat on the wife (only it wasn't cheating, of course, if it was with a pro) – or keep driving, head back to his safe, cosy life.  Well he didn't have a safe cosy life did he, not anymore, not now Kris had put a spanner in the works.

What had he meant about 'looking in all the wrong places'?  Because if he was implying he was queer he was barking up the wrong tree there. He definitely wasn't queer, not even close.  He had never, not ever once looked at another man that way- 

Darren was in the habit of lying to himself.  No, not lying - rationalising, arguing with the voice in his head that seemed to think it was the truth bringer.  He argued because he was of the belief that just because your thoughts said one thing it didn't mean they were always actually right.  He was quite capable of arguing the Truth Bringer into an exhausted, resigned heap.  This was the way he lived with the things he did – he took the stance that HE was right and the Truth Bringer wrong a lot of the time, only thought he was right.  He assumed that most people allowed their own Truth Bringer to get cocky, thinking it was the final authority.  No, he was the final authority and whatever he did that met resistance from the Truth Bringer was seized on, with a measure of perversity, as therefore the right course of action.

But as he told himself that he had never looked that way at another man the Truth Bringer practically bellowed its dissent.

It had taken a long, long time to get it quiet enough to hear himself think, to make the plans he knew needed to be made.

And as he drove around the red light district the voice kept getting louder and louder, assuring him that he was about to do something he'd regret for the rest of his life. 

He had always promised himself that whatever happened he would never pay for sex.  It hadn't been something he'd spent hours agonising over – just one of those things you knew wasn't you – a line you'd never cross.  And for one reason or another here he was about to cross that line.

  
He'd driven out of the district, not stopping until he'd left the area several miles behind.

It was still relatively early; he was dressed well, well enough to get into a club.  Why not? Maybe now he was actually trying, away from bloody Chester, he'd actually get lucky.

Well the first thing was actually getting into a club!

When the fuck had there ever been such a strict dress code?

He'd almost turned and driven straight home when at one likely club – he'd seen some real hotties going in – a 'friendly' doorman had told him he'd be much happier at another venue and given him directions for getting there.  When he'd approached the club at which he'd be ‘a lot happier’ it hadn’t taken long to clock that it was a gay club.  Cheeky fucking bastard!  He'd been honestly tempted to return and have it out with the bastard.

He'd sat fuming in the car instead, so angry and disappointed he felt close to tears.  The Truth Bringer was suspiciously silent, like it was sympathetic or something.  Well fuck that.  He'd get in somewhere.  Just watch him!

  
He'd got in to a club eventually, but from the outset he'd felt really out of place.  On the surface all was kosher, but the girls were loud and whorish, the guys standing on the edge of the action like predators on the African veldt.

He'd seen the picking off – a guy choosing his willing prey and making his move – and was sickened by it.  So obvious, so empty and obvious.  He wasn't that desperate, just couldn't think of himself as having anything in common with these saddos.

The Truth Bringer asked him how this was different from the action taking place at all the other clubs he hadn't got into that night, all the clubs up and down the country.  He had no answer – just knew he wasn't prepared to go there tonight.

  
He sat in the car for a long time, listening to music, thinking about Kris.  He'd never be seen dead in a place like that.  Darren wasn't even sure he'd go to a gay club.  And now he thought about it had he ever seen him with another guy?  He knew he'd had a thing with Jess and Summer, but had there ever been a guy?  But there had to be a guy – guys  - he'd been with.  He seemed to make it clear that he swung that way, yet apart from the way he dressed, looked, was there any real evidence that he slept with blokes?

Intrigued by this he found himself heading back to Chester on automatic pilot, not fully aware of what he was doing.

Was Kris a virgin with guys?

This thought, for some reason, set his pulse racing.

Well, well, well so he was all talk – the sex with guys all theory with him.

Well they'd just have to see about that...

            **

  
When he came back from the loo Darren was there, behind the bar, smelling of cologne and cigarette smoke.  He looked at him, raised an eyebrow.  “Hope you washed your hands.”

What? “Course.” He stood a little away from him, uncomfortable for the first time he could ever recall as far as Darren went.  “Wasn't expecting you back tonight.  Jack made it sound like you'd gone on a tri county pub crawl or something.”

“You asked him where I was?” He wasn't looking in his direction, concentrating instead on getting a nice head on the pint he was pulling.

Kris didn't answer at once, wasn't quite sure how to.  He'd been expecting a very, very different Darren, had expected awkward yes, but hadn't realised that it would all be coming from him.  He prayed that one of the few remaining punters would please come and put in the order from hell so his mind would have a chance to take stock of what the heck was going on with both himself and Darren.

The stragglers drank up and left.

They were alone.  Jack would probably be down soon to help them close up – well maybe not if he was aware of Darren's return. So unless Darren gave him the rest of the night off they had another hour at least in each other's company.  He felt really, really uncomfortable, no opening gambit coming to mind at all.

He felt Darren's curious eyes on him. “What's up with you? You're not your usual loud and gabby self.  Hard day at the office?”

“Well if you must know, yeah Darren I've had a pretty full on day and the last thing I need is more of the same just when I'm ready to drop.”

Darren examined him.  “Yeah you do look like shit.  Make-up's run.  Should have topped it up when you went to the bog.”

“For your information, mascara is not 'topped up' it's reapplied.”

“Oooh well pardon me for failing the beauty component of the quiz.  I will have to consult my make-up consultant next time – John Paul McQueen.”

“Darren that is so ignorant it's not even funny.”

“What, he's a queen isn't he and last time I looked queens were female.”

“Oh and when was the last time you 'looked'?”

“What?”

“Last time you looked.  When was that?”  He was starting to feel more himself now, bantering with Darren in a way that was wholly familiar.

Darren made a sound with his teeth that he interpreted as: fuck you! went into the body of he pub and started collecting glasses.

Kris watched him for a while, admiring his physique then realised that he was being watched in turn.

“Well don't just stand there!  What do we pay you for?”

“Yes Boss, anything you say Boss.”

Darren gave him a look but let it go. “And get the hoover out after.”

“That's not in my contract.”

“It bloody well is now.”  
                                                                 *

  
They stood awkwardly together, after.  Usually there'd be hardly any words exchanged, Kris would just fetch his things and leave, Darren reminding him of his next shift, attention elsewhere.  This time they seemed reluctant to part.  Kris wanted to find his usual insouciance but it was nowhere to be seen – he still felt awkward as hell.  A prickly, defensive Darren he could handle but this Darren, this confident, back-to-his-usual-tactless-and-insensitive-self Darren, was, for some reason, really confusing him.  What had he found in Manchester to make the awkwardness of the previous night's events melt away?

“You planning on moving in?”

“What?”

“You, ain't you got a home to go to?”

He rolled his eyes.  Yeah old Darren was back alright.  “See you, Boss,” But Darren didn't move away as he tried to get past, impolitely stood his ground so that Kris had to squeeze past.  He automatically looked into his eyes and surprised by the teasing smile stopped, opened his big mouth.  “What?”

“You need to get better mascara.  Try one of the known brands rather than the Superdrug special own brand offer next time.”

“You're giving me make up tips?”  He could feel Darren's breath on his face they were so close.  He hadn't been drinking. The heat of his lanky frame was making him feel a heat of his own.  He really, really should move away.

“And I don't like the lip gloss.  Natural's better.”

Kris automatically ran a tongue across his bottom lip, saw Darren's gaze follow its path. His heart started a faster beat.  They were close enough to kiss, but he couldn't make the first move. “Hmmm I prefer the cherry myself.”

“I prefer strawberry.”  Darren was looking straight into his eyes.

He took a deep breath. “Darren, what is this?”

“A discussion of lip gloss.”

“And the rest?”  Don't bloody push.

“Me asking you out on a date.”

He took a deep, deep breath, scared, for the first time in his life scared to embark on a relationship with someone.  “Darren, I don't put out on the first date.”

“Well what kind of girl does – not the type of girl you ask out on a second date, that's for sure.”

“Darren I'm-”

“Could you change the record?  I know you're not.  I'm having a bit of fun.  Heard of that?  I hear it's all the rage these days.”

“I've heard of it, yes.”  And is that was this is for you?  “Okay, I'll bite.  Where you taking me?”

“It's a surprise.”

“Darren I-”

“I'm asking you out on a date.  Do you want to or not?”

“I do.”

“Oh hold on I said date, not marriage.”

“Oh ha ha.”  He was starting to feel just a little calmer, heart was still racing but in a good way. “Okay, so when should I expect-”

“Friday's your day off.”

“Yes.”

“Well then.”

“But-”

“I'll give you a call.”

“Okay.”  Not too sure about that – plenty of time to have a change of heart between now and then. But either it happened or it didn't. No point in borrowing trouble.  He moved reluctantly out of Darren's personal space, still feeling the heat of his body all down his front.  He felt himself shivering inside, his passage to the door punctuated by an unexpected blushing he was at pains to keep strictly to himself.

He opened the door...

“Oi!”

Darren was leaning against the bar, looking very pleased with himself.  “On Friday, dress like a bloke.”

Kris met his gaze, trying to think of a retort, but the teasing smile in Darren's eye derailed his train of thought.

He closed the door without reply, well, except for the huge grin he'd sent Darren's way...

**

  
   
He'd given quite some thought to where he would take Kris on Friday. All the usual places were out: he didn't honestly think they had too much in common, really, and Kris didn't seem like a clubber to him. But he didn't exactly want to spend all bloody evening talking to him either. He'd always hated when his exes had wanted dinner or 'somewhere quiet where we can talk'. Fuck that! Yeah he wanted to spend time with him, but that could be achieved without the need to bloody talk or stare soulfully into one another's eyes.

So either the cinema or the theatre. God was he really thinking of going to the bloody theatre? There'd been a theatre trip scheduled when he'd been in fifth form – for some stupid play they were doing in English. He'd ensured he came down with the flu and so had managed to avoid that particular pleasure. And yet here he was voluntarily, of his own bloody free will, making enquiries, buying tickets. And he still wasn't sure why or even what he hoped to achieve. With a girl, a proper date, you knew the goal of the project was to get a nice little reward at the end of the night or a softening up which would reap the reward a little way down the line. With Kris it was neither – well okay maybe a bit of softening, but Kris was a bloke: you couldn't use the same techniques on a bloke, he'd clock on straight off. And it wasn't like Kris didn't fuck girls – he would surely be able to recognise all the tricks.

God it was complicated going out with a bloke who was only half rice...

He'd phoned him on the morning – well why not keep him guessing? - and made arrangements to pick him up...

“Where're we going?”

“I told you – it's a surprise.”

“Darren if you've got some daft scheme up your sleeve I will not be amused.”

“I'm offended that you'd even consider that I'd do something iffy. I asked you out didn't I?” He could tell by the brief silence on the other end of the line that he'd really got him confused, not quite sure whether or not to take him seriously. Good. It was nice to be on the front foot with him for a change.

“Okay. Will I be dressing posh?”

“You what? I told you to dress like a bloke!”

“Darren, what in my voice, exactly, made you decide I'd be wearing a frock?”

“So you'll be dressed like a fella then? Cos I'm not taking you out if you're wearing heels.”

“Well how about cowboy boots? Would they count?”

“Of course not! They're not heels!” He couldn't actually hear him laughing but he could tell by the quality of the silence that he was having the piss taken. “Oh very funny.”

“Oh Darren, you and your cowboy boots!”

“What, they suit me!”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, don't wear a dress, try to find a decent suit or something.”

“A suit!” He sounded outraged. “You never told me I'd need to find a suit to wear.”

“It doesn't have to be a suit – smart casual then.”

“Darren where are you taking me?”

He sighed, might as well tell him, not like it was some big secret or anything. “Okay, I've got the car again and I thought we could head into Manchester, a few shows at the Library I thought might float your boat.” Well he'd known this might surprise him but he hadn't expected it to surprise him that much! “Hello? You still there?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay I'll find something appropriate to wear. So, what time are you picking me up?”

“Show starts at 8, so about 6 – that'll give us plenty of time.”

“Okay. I'll be ready.”

“Oh I've heard that one before-”

“Okay Darren, before I change the record for something a lot less boring...”

“Look I know you're not a girl, but don't tell me it doesn't take you ages to leave the house, what with checking the mascara, the lippy and the ladder in the tights.”

“I don't wear tights.”

“Well what were you wearing that night then?”

“Stockings.”

Damn! That was an image he could have done without. “Well anyway. Be ready!”

“I will be.”

  
**

  
“What the fuck have you done to your hair?”

Well he'd expected a reaction, but he'd rather expected it to be the clothes that would make him blink. “What?” He slipped into the passenger seat, taking a moment to inhale Darren's scent.

“I know I said dress like a bloke, but...” He was staring at Kris' hair. “So you're not a natural blonde then.”

He chuckled. “Darren sure it's no wonder you don't have a girlfriend at the moment.”

“No.” He put the car in gear. “I just have a boyfriend – who dyes his hair.”

Kris shook his head, but said nothing. He felt sort of naked without the make-up, the clothes, stripped down completely, even down to the trim and dye job. He'd been nervous about the hair, but the stylist had done a great job and he knew he looked good. He could tell by the way Darren kept casting surreptitious glances his way, more specifically at his hair, that he thought so too. He knew Darren well enough to know that he'd never get a compliment from him – not directly.

He'd been surprised, very surprised by the boyfriend comment – it had come so naturally to him, not even a hint of levity in his tone when he said it.

He just prayed that the evening would go well, turn out to be something they could build on. He had a packet of condoms in his pocket and a small tube of lube because no point in not being prepared for all eventualities but in truth he was content with just a few hours in his company.

“You look nice,” because he might not get a compliment directly, but indirect was also good.

“I know.”

Kris rolled his eyes, grinned to himself. Well he liked Darren just as he was so no problem there then...

  
**

Well he looked amazing as a bloke. He hadn't actually recognised him at first: darker hair, cut in a different style, something close to a suit, the blue shirt, bringing out the colour of his eyes – well it wasn't just the colour of the shirt it was the hair too. And not a hint of foundation or lippy.

And he smelled good too – different, more ...blokey. God it was such a good thing he'd packed that box of condoms and bottle of lube in the overnight bag (along with changes of underwear and a spare toothbrush) and booking that hotel room – inspired.

**

Darren seemed determined to surprise him at every turn, staying close to him as they walked, hand occasionally resting lightly on his back as they made their way through the crowds, treating him, well, like a date and definitely not like a mate. And when they took their seats in the auditorium he pressed his leg against his and didn't move away, fingers occasionally finding an excuse to rub his wrist, arm. All very light, subtle but full of intent. He was frankly astonished at how turned on he was. Darren was seducing him in the most incredible way and he was helpless to do anything but melt inside, impatient with the very good production Darren had chosen for them. And that was another thing: Darren had obviously put a lot of thought into the evening, choosing exactly the right thing for him to watch – just his cuppa. Maybe he wasn't that much of a mystery to Darren after all.

Well no, clearly he had his number right down to the last digit...

**

The look in Kris' eyes made him hard.

He hadn't been sure how he'd react about the hotel room, but the look he'd got as they sat in the car after the show made him congratulate himself for his perspicacity. Well they could have fucked in the car, but that wasn't what he wanted – not at all.

“You wanna head back?”

“Not really.”

“Got any plans for tomorrow morning?”

“Not a one.”

“Okay.” He started the car.

“I'm covered by the way.”

“What?”

“I've got stuff in case you were wondering.”

Well that was a come on, get it in gear, if he ever heard one. “Good.”

And that was the last word they exchanged for a while, both of them so turned on he didn't think they were capable of holding a proper conversation.

  
**

  
Darren set him against the wall and kissed him, but not greedily, though he could feel the hard length jammed against his thigh. He took his time, driving him crazy until he took over, sucking Darren's tongue into his mouth, biting his bottom lip, hands frantically undoing his belt. “Don't fuck about,” he pleaded, surprised at his impatience, his desire to have Darren's cock in his mouth right fucking now. He'd only had the one bloke before and it hadn't been anything like this – he hadn't been so desperate to have his cock, to get it inside him. “Lie on the bed,” he ordered, pushing him backwards. Darren went, eyes intent, breath coming in painful sounding gasps. The head of his cock was already wet and with an impolite sound of greed Kris went for him, shoving the material out of his way grasping the hard cock at the base, short wiry hair tickling his fingers, and licking it like a lollipop. God that was good – so good. How had he denied himself this for so long?

Darren was undoing the buttons of his shirt, fingers clumsy, trembling. “Fuck!” He was trying to take off his trousers while Kris was licking him but he got in the way and Kris pushed him back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck...”

Kris leaned over him and started sucking, not bothering about teasing, playing, working up to it, anything so protracted just hollowing his cheeks and going down.

“Jesus fuck!” Darren's hands were on his head, fingers tangled in his hair, not directing him, just holding him, thanking him.

He turned his attention to the tight balls, sucked them gently, fingers playing the very wet head of the twitching cock and went lower, Darren desperately trying to give him access.

“Hold on, hold on.” He pushed him away gently, toed off his shoes, helped Kris pull off trousers and underwear, finally managed to get rid of the shirt. “Come on, you too, wanna see you.”

He didn't try to finesse it just stripped as quickly and efficiently as he could then ignoring Darren's hands knelt between the long muscular thighs and pushed them up.

**

  
Kris' tongue licked a long path from his balls to his arsehole and back again. He was quivering, literally quivering, the pleasure of it driving him out of his mind. He hadn't been sure he'd be able to suck him off but he was sure now. He really, really wanted to, but Kris wouldn't let him, seemed determined to scramble his brains with his lips and tongue. It had never been like this with a woman – they'd have to be turned on something fierce to go at him like this. God it felt good not to be the one in the driver's seat. Hadn't really considered this as an obvious aspect of sex with a bloke.

Kris looked at him. “I'm going to sit on your cock. Is that alright?”

Well clearly he wasn't being serious... “The stuff's in the bag over there.” He watched him, the way he moved, completely unselfconscious in his nakedness. His cock looked painful though, maybe he should offer... “I can take care of that if you want.”

“Don't worry about it. Here. “ He threw him a condom, distracted, well not actually distracted at all, just so focused and turned on civil behaviour seemed to have taken a brief vacation. He put a condom on himself, waited impatiently for Darren to do the same, then crawled up him, turned so that he was facing his feet and nodded at the lube. “Prepare me.”

**

  
He hadn't been able to resist sucking at the head of his cock again, knowing it would probably not get him the long fuck he wanted but it was just too tempting. He moaned, couldn't help himself, when he felt Darren's long fingers on the skin of his arse, ready for, desperate for the lube covered fingers to breach him. The last thing he'd expected was Darren's tongue lapping at him, tentative at first then really getting into it, pushing in, fucking him. But he couldn't let it go on, they'd both finish off before the fucking even began and it was a fuck he needed right now. “Darren, get the lube in me.”

The desperation must have shown in his voice because Darren did as he was told, careful, thorough, kissing the skin around his arsehole as he finger fucked him. When he felt stretched and ready, his cock ready to burst he moved his arse away, moved down until he was positioned above Darren's condom covered cock. He went down easily; lubed inside, the cock inside him also lubed to within an inch of its life. God that felt so, so good. He didn't really care what Darren was feeling, just wanted to fuck until it spilled out of him.

He began a slow up and down movement, eyes closed, head back, hands grasping Darren's which were firm on his hips. He moaned as Darren took control, directing his movements, adding a thrust of his own, the cock inside him crowded against his prostate, driving him spare. He couldn't speak, swearing the only way to express the pleasure of it. Darren wasn't saying much either just 'yeah' over and over, really slamming him up and down, fingers digging into the skin of his hips, marking him, definitely bruising him. His cock was close to bursting and he just had to... God that felt...the slippery stuff on his fingers making the wank feel like heaven, the fucking he was getting from Darren's cock scrambling his brains...

  
**

He was so damn tight. His cock felt like it had died and gone to heaven. And he could take a good fucking, relished it, gave it back all the way. Next time though he was going to be on top. There was something about putting him on his face, arse up, slamming into him from the back that he found very, very appealing. Damn, fuck, that had done it. He came, hips bucking, fingers gripping the abused flesh of Kris' hips and felt somewhere in that Kris come too, the tightening around his cock finally getting a loud shout from him...

**

They showered together, playful and flirtatious, teasing each other about their lack of manners in the bedroom. Kris got his choice of toothbrush, slapping Darren on the arse when he saw the selection - blue and pink - taking the blue with a teasing grin.

“What, I didn't think you'd be so blokey, did I?”

They lay in each other's arms and talked into the night, no plans made, no talk of the future, but Darren had called him 'boyfriend' and didn't seem in any great hurry to retract that.

That was good enough for him.  



End file.
